The skies were heavy with sorrow, as if the heavens themselves were mourning. Rain poured down relentlessly, turning the once vibrant and lively empire into a dark and somber place.

Today marked the final day of the funeral, three long days that had mirrored the depth of the royal family’s grief.

The Emperor stood in the midst of the storm, his heart weighed down by a profound sadness. His beloved wife, the Empress, and their unborn daughter were being laid to rest, their loss a crushing blow that left him almost numb.

The source of this immense pain was the catastrophic explosion of power caused by their first son, Avaxion. Just back from the battlefield, emperor Alderon had returned home only to face an even greater tragedy—losing his wife and daughter he would never meet.

The explosion, a result of Avaxion’s formidable but dangerously volatile magical gift, had upended their lives. The crown prince was now confined to a slumbering existence, a tragic victim of his own formidable power.

The emperor’s eyes fell on his second son, Axion, who stood beside the casket holding a bouquet of white lilies. Axion, only a child, wept openly as he said goodbye.

“Mom, I love you. I’m sorry.” His tears mingled with the rain, making the moment even more poignant. The scene was heart-wrenching—an innocent child burdened with a sorrow far beyond his years, performing a ritual that was both a farewell and a grim acceptance of fate.

As Avaxion remained hidden away in his chamber lost in his endless sleep, the funeral had finally come to an end, with nobles and foreign dignitaries offering their final respects. Yet even as the last mourners departed, the Empire remained steeped in a deep, uneasy silence.

In the heart of Eldoria, where the elements danced in their ancient harmony, four great powers reigned supreme: fire, water, air, and earth.

At the top of this elemental hierarchy stood the Fire Empire, a land where flames and ambition burned brightly. Its capital, a city of black crimson stone and molten gold, seemed to shimmer with the empire’s fierce energy.

Towers of obsidian and gold reached skyward, their spires perpetually kissed by the orange glow of the eternal flame that symbolized the empire’s boundless energy and dominance.

The Fire Empire stood as the pinnacle of elemental supremacy, its rulers commanding the very essence of flame with an unyielding might. Its people, with hearts as fiery as their land, moved with a grace that belied their power, their every move reflecting the intensity of their element.

Beneath the fire’s incandescent rule, the Three Kingdoms held their own, each a testament to the strength and beauty of their respective elements.

To the west lay the Water Kingdom, a realm of tranquil lakes and serene ocean. Here, the people could control the waters with precision, from gentle streams to raging storms, their cities sparkling with the fluid beauty of their element.

To the north, the Air Kingdom floated among the clouds. Their cities were built high in the sky, their inhabitants skilled at summoning winds and breezes. They moved with a lightness and freedom that mirrored their control over the air.

And to the south, the Earth Kingdom stood steadfast, its landscapes sculpted by the might of rock and soil. With towering mountains and deep forests, the people of this land could shape the ground and all that grew from it. Their power was rooted deeply in the earth, providing them with immense physical strength.

Yet, despite the balance among these kingdoms, the Fire Empire was the most influential. Its flames reached beyond borders, influencing and guiding the other kingdoms with a blend of authority and awe.

Though there were treaties and alliances in place to keep peace, the Fire Empire’s dominance was undeniable.

Five years had passed, and the crown prince still lay in an endless slumber, a figure both feared and pitied. His name, once spoken with reverence and anticipation, had become a whispered cautionary tale.

For some, his unending sleep was a relief from the burdens and dangers of ruling. They whispered, “He’s too dangerous to wake,” their voices reflecting a deep unease about the unpredictable power he might wield if he were to awaken.

Others, however, mourned the loss of what could have been—a leader who never had the chance to fulfill his destiny. The corridors of the royal palace, once bustling with the clamor of strategy and intrigue, now echoed with an uneasy silence.

In the absence of the crown prince, the political landscape of Avaxion had shifted imperceptibly. Eyes turned increasingly toward young Axion, a boy of only thirteen years who bore the weight of expectation with a surprising grace.

His name had begun to circulate among the courtiers and commoners alike as a potential successor to the throne. Each day, the citizens of the Fire Empire wrestled with their hopes and fears.

They gazed upon the slumbering prince with a blend of reverence and unease, wondering if he would ever awaken to claim his birthright or if his eternal sleep would open the door for the young swordsman, Axion to take the reins of an empire poised on the brink of transformation.

In the dim light of the grand halls and the shadowed corners of the capital, the question of who would lead the empire into the future loomed large, casting long shadows over the hearts and minds of its people.

Thirteen-year-old Axion moved through the bustling capital with an air of distinction that was hard to ignore. Among the sea of citizens, he towered over most children his age, his height more reminiscent of a young man than a boy. His face, too, seemed marked by the weight of years and experiences far beyond his actual age.

The grand avenue leading to the imperial palace was lined with majestic columns and grand statues, but Axion presence seemed to command its own kind of respect. Clad in a simple but well-tailored tunic, he walked with a purposeful stride that caught the eye of nobles and commoners alike.

He stepped through the grand gates of the imperial palace, the weight of the day’s errands still lingering in his stride. As the palace servants gathered to welcome him, his loyal aide leaned in close, whispered something that elicited an unexpected smile.

The servants exchanged bewildered glances; the second prince, typically a figure of unyielding seriousness and stoic composure within these walls, had rarely shown such a rare and unguarded emotion.

“Marina is here?” Axion had asked his loyal aid, a hint of genuine joy breaking through his somber expression. “Yes, Your Majesty. She’s waiting for you in the garden.” The news of her impending visit had brought an unexpected rush of excitement to his heart—a stark contrast to the desolation that had pervaded his days since the tragic events.

Away from the rain and gloom, the royal garden offered a rare moment of tranquility. The patches of sunlight filtered through the trees, casting a gentle light on the greenery.

Marina had been a beacon of support during his darkest hours. She's his best friend. Her presence and letters had been a rare comfort, a reminder of the world outside his personal grief.

She is also the princess of the water kingdom, a realm renowned for its beauty and mystique. Her father, the king, had always held his beloved daughter’s safety above all else.

When the empire shook under the looming threats of the crown prince’s destructive power, he acted decisively as a father, determined to shield and protect his daughter by dissolving the betrothal between the crown prince and Marina.

The engagement was never been officially announced or publicized to begin with, making it easy to cancel without any damage to the families’ reputations.

To be continued...